


Ensure Enough

by BrosleCub12



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Doctor Who Feels, Doctor Who References, Fandom fic, Fluff, Gen, Hugging, Meta, Parenthood, Slice of Life, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 05:06:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16298690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrosleCub12/pseuds/BrosleCub12
Summary: We're stronger together.John and Sherlock watch the latest episode of Doctor Who.(Written immediately following the airing of 'The Ghost Monument,'; here be spoilers!)





	Ensure Enough

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Note:** Basically, I was so moved by this week's newest episode of Doctor Who I wrote...this. Don't judge me, please. I'm getting much-needed practise at writing Sherlock and John again, after my last few years in this fandom have proven to be a bit of a mess and I just love these quiet domestic moments between them. 
> 
> DOCTOR WHO FANS, BEWARE: If you haven't watched the latest episode of Doctor Who, 'The Ghost Monument,' don't read any further. This is basically a spoilerific fic for the whole episode. I just felt so inspired! Unbeta'ed, so all mistakes mine; it was written in about half-an-hour. 
> 
> As per, I don't own _Sherlock_ or _Doctor Who._

* * *

Part of putting Rosie to bed on time means peace and quiet after a day of play and smells and food refusing to be eaten, but it also means that John is able to slump on the sofa and catch the new _Doctor Who_ on time, which Sherlock has quietly recorded so he can rewind if he wishes.

Thank God for Sky Digital, John considers, tuning in just as the opening credits start up; the new ones announcing Jodie Whittaker as the titular character. John has had far more important things to do over the past year than kick off over the newest Doctor being played by a woman – he thinks Mary might have been pleased, probably would have been, but he’s thought about looking into the faces of those people with their casual misogyny, their mutterings of ‘The Doctor’s not a missus,’ ‘you know what’s terrible? Making the Doctor a woman,’ and ‘what’s next? Jane Bond?’ and asking them dully: _do you know what’s really terrible? Losing your wife to a gunshot. Telling your baby daughter Mummy’s not coming back. Watching your best friend in the whole wide world, the reason you’re alive and not dead in a cheap coffin from a self-inflicted bullet-wound, stand alone on the edge of a building and then hurl himself off to save your life._

Heroes are male and female, John knows this. Mary sacrificed herself to save Sherlock; Sherlock jumped to save him, Molly and Lestrade. Molly bravely played her part; Lestrade kept John standing. Anyone can be a hero and John will happily take Jodie as his Doctor. As long as she can play the part well, that’s all John cares about: _Doctor Who_ was one of his few indulgences in childhood, a rare thing to look forward to, so as long as it’s suitably Whovian, John doesn’t care who plays the titular character.

Besides, he loved her in _Broadchurch._

He smiles as Sherlock hovers into his orbit, sits quietly down on the sofa beside him. The new television, up high on its stand, was brought with the substantial reward money from recovering a diplomat’s lost child: they now have Netflix and Amazon Prime. For John, it’s a small comfort and makes telly watching even better – also a necessity with a two-year-old. John has never forgotten the day he came back from the surgery and found Sherlock and Rosie on the lounge floor, Rosie in Sherlock’s lap, both of them staring enraptured at an episode of _Danger Mouse._

‘I used to watch it with Victor,’ Sherlock had confessed when he caught John staring from the doorway. John had found a smile for him, a nod and then before he quite knew what he was doing, settled down on the floor beside them and started to watch as well.

Now, a cup of tea is pushed into his hands and John smiles graciously at Sherlock. The man watches the screen closely as he nibbles on a custard cream, puts a plate of biscuits between them. Honestly, John is getting spoilt tonight. And to his credit, he doesn’t say a single word.

Well. Mostly. He grunts a little, here and there – John detects a raised eyebrow when the characters manage to escape space without getting their heads blown off (he thinks Douglas Adams might have said something on the subject and makes a note to get _The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy_ out again, if only to antagonise his friend further); when Ryan starts screaming in a high-pitched manner after his attempt at shooting robots fails (and John can’t help but feel slightly smug too; _Call of Duty_ is nothing to real time spent on the field, mate) and whenever the Doctor has a particularly impressive moment, of which there are several. She’s truly brilliant, as the Doctor: she’s scared, but she’s standing; she’s determined, but honest. John loves her.

They’re both tellingly silent when Graham talks about losing his wife; John clears his throat, uncomfortably. Ella has told him he needs to forgive himself for what he did – as has Sherlock, who has gone one step further by forgiving John himself, but. It’s complicated. John hopes that he and Rosie don’t share what Ryan and Graham have: a stilted relationship of guardianship, when one is all the other one seems to have, and both wish it could be different. He doesn’t want awkward silences and a gap where Mary should be. He wants them to be father and daughter and together.

But then, John watches the Doctor encouraging the two of them, spurring them with her compliments and her endless stream of cheer and he glances at Sherlock and remembers: he and Rosie are not alone. They have their detective.

‘We’re stronger together,’ the Doctor declares onscreen, and then goes on to prove it. John’s heart is in his mouth, but then it always is with any new episode of Doctor Who. It doesn’t matter what he’s seen in reality; he always loves where the infinity of science-fiction can take you.

‘Are you enjoying this?’ he asks finally, glancing Sherlock’s way as the episode draws close to its conclusion. Sherlock shrugs. It’s been a bit weird, having him so quiet and still – almost alien. John’s not entirely sure he likes it; wonders how Sherlock’s brain is coping.

‘It interests me,’ Sherlock’s voice is quiet, almost hoarse, like it sometimes is when he comes back to himself after a long spell of silence. John nods, bites his lip; puts a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder and pats it, feeling awkward. He hopes Sherlock isn’t taking an interest just for his benefit, but it’s nice all the same.

When the TARDIS arrives; John can’t help it. He gets – okay, he gets _really_ choked up. He finds himself grinning as the Doctor murmurs, desperately, ‘Come to Daddy. I mean, Mummy,’ and he finds himself wishing and wishing with her. The sound of the TARDIS always gave him a sliver of hope on the harder, lonelier nights as a kid and he’s not sure he can stand having a series without one. The Doctor needs her TARDIS – it’s the law.

And when he sees the new look – okay, that finishes him off. He loves it. This, he thinks, feels like _Doctor Who._ A new TARDIS, ready for new adventures. He bursts out laughing when a custard cream appears; Sherlock chuffs a little beside him. They keep their eyes fixed to the screen right until the end, and when the credits roll, John can safely say he’s feeling _really_ happy right now.

He turns to smile at Sherlock and finds Sherlock watching him; notes how bemused he looks. Not offended, just… perplexed.

‘What did you think?’ John finds himself asking. Sherlock cocks his head to the side, considering.

‘It’s very imaginative,’ he sounds as if he’s carefully weighing up his words for fear of offending John; gets a raised eyebrow for his troubles. ‘Oh, fine. That bit at the start when they were in space was ridiculous, they should all be dead by now and you know how I feel about alien conspiracies.’

‘Just because you were accused of being one of the conspiracy lot,’ John rejoins bluntly. Sherlock rolls his eyes and it just makes John smile harder.

‘It was… peculiar – but then it would be hypocritical of me to insult your viewing preferences after you caught me watching the adventures of a cartoon mouse,’ he sniffs primly and John blinks, having expected a full, scathing onslaught. ‘It’s a perfectly harmless past-time and while I believe that people could be occupying themselves with far more important matters, I also realise that criticising something that pleases someone else without harm or fear of illegality would be what Lestrade would commonly term “a dick move.”’

John barks with laughter and then immediately stills himself, glancing nervously towards the baby-monitor. They share a tense hush for a moment or so, but the ensuing silence is enough to assure them that Rosie hasn’t awoken, that they won’t have another sleepless night and they breathe out, their shared relief palpable.

‘It makes you happy,’ Sherlock notes and John blinks, feeling the slightest lump in his throat; feeling caught. They’ve never spoken about his past; the pain of Sherlock’s own exposed history was bad enough. So much water has gone under so many bridges; now, they like to focus on the present, and making things better. For themselves, for each other and for Rosie.

‘Thanks,’ he manages. ‘For watching it with me.’ He wonders if Sherlock can tell how he tried to recapture his love for _Doctor Who_ on his return from Afghanistan, to recover some small, shattered part of himself on BBC iPlayer using the dodgy Wi-Fi from his bedsit, but failed miserably, which sent him even more downhill. When he had been safely ensconced in 221B a few months later, he than managed to slowly pick his way back through it, which - in-between cases and having someone to argue with - picked him up just a little bit more.  

Sherlock can probably tell, but he simply looks moved. ‘Of course, John.’ He pauses; John can see him swallow. ‘Of course.’

John smiles. ‘Come here,’ he murmurs, moved by a deep affection for this wonderful man, ‘come here, you…’

He reaches out with both arms and pulls Sherlock into them and they share a long hug there on the sofa, John smiling into Sherlock’s shirt. He thinks about how much they’ve done already, how far they’ve come; night-shifts spent feeding and changing Rosie, solving cases in-between arranging childcare; rebuilding what they had and coming out the stronger for it. Keeping each other safe; never again leaving each other behind and now sharing custody of a little girl whom Sherlock considers his own just as much as she is John’s.

 _We’re stronger together,_ the Doctor had proclaimed, in an episode that explored solidarity and teamwork and winning all the more for it.

 _Yes,_ John thinks, holding Sherlock close. _Yes, we are._

*


End file.
